


x Number of Moves

by karanguni



Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-24
Updated: 2014-05-24
Packaged: 2018-01-26 07:59:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1680707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karanguni/pseuds/karanguni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Then the chess pieces rearranged themselves on the board; all the conquered soldiers rose up and fell, whole once more, back into line.</p>
            </blockquote>





	x Number of Moves

They'd needed to get to Paris as quickly as possible, but once the four of them were on the plane there wasn't much else to do but burn time during the transatlantic commute. After their _conversation_ , Logan had defected -- understandably -- to the cockpit, swapping out with Charles once the dents in the plane's chassis had smoothed themselves out.

It left Charles with Erik, a chessboard, and an entire bottle of brandy; he wasn't quite sure if this was something out of one of his many fevered dreams of the past few years, or just simply a nightmare.

'Maybe it'll finally be a fair fight this time,' Erik said to him, setting the chess board down, and Charles unconsciously felt his fingers tighten on one (working) thigh.

'It's your move,' Charles said simply, in lieu of something worse slipping out of his mouth. He was painfully aware of the fact that Erik had been sitting at the bottom of a prison vault, sharpening his mind like a long and patient knife, in the time that Charles had spent seeking some midpoint between numbness and chemical elevation.

'How does it feel,' Erik asked, three moves in.

'How does what feel?' Charles asked, partway distracted by the feeling of all the cogs and wheels and gears in his head slowly cranking back to life. Chess was a comparatively simple war game; one Charles knew well and was good at. It was also the only one battlefield on which he knew himself to be more ruthless than Erik. 'My legs or my head?' 

'You can't --' Erik started, and Charles braced himself for some skirmish. But then, with surprising gentleness, Erik reined himself in and settled by saying, 'It must not be good for your body, the drugs.'

'It's excellent for my mobility,' Charles shrugged, moving a pawn. 'Hank is constantly saying that there will be long term ramifications for my powers if I keep using the doses I do, but, well.' He removed Erik's knight from the board with careful, barely trembling fingers.

Erik's mouth tightened into a flat line. If he closed his eyes, Charles fancied he could imagine -- fancied he could _feel_ the disapproval. The thought ghosted like a phantom invader through his mind. Charles tried to focus on his more reliable senses: the smell of brandy, the almost overwhelming pressure of the side of Erik's shoe pressed, feather-light, against his own. 'Don't frown at me,' Charles said as he lifted his glass up for a drink.

'I didn't say anything,' Erik informed him, as a bishop danced unaided across the board. 'I'm trying to do this _your way_.'

'You might think it's cowardly of me,' Charles said, eyes fixed on the board, away from Erik's face. 'But it's funny. Here we are, the two of us, sitting together for the first time in years, and deep in my gut I have this absurd notion that everything might work out for once.'

'Why?' Erik asked him as Charles gently but inexorably pushed his black knight into a position that would lead, in all likelihood, to white's defeat.

'Because without this,' Charles said, with no little viciousness, tapping two fingers to his temple, 'Raven, and maybe even you, Erik, might just _trust_ me this time.'

Silence from the other end of the board, and Erik didn't move, either. The entire conversation was happening on enough levels that Charles felt nauseous just thinking about it. He wanted, more than anything, to just have another drink. Sobriety was turning out to be a difficult master.

'I'm not wearing the helmet,' was all that Erik eventually had to say to him.

'If nothing,' Charles sighed, 'you never do lie to me. You'd kill me if I got in the way, yes, but never lie to me.'

'That's why diplomacy is so difficult,' Erik said, as his king suddenly toppled over in a controlled fall. 'I have little to say when you never want to hear what I have to tell you. You win again, Charles; it was fairly fought.'

'Even when my powers were at their strongest,' Charles said, finally looking up, 'I've never cheated.'

Erik was, as he'd always been, unblinking. 'And the hardest thing to admit to you, Charles, is that I believe you entirely.'

Then the chess pieces rearranged themselves on the board; all the conquered soldiers rose up and fell, whole once more, back into line.

'I'm impressed you kept this board on the plane,' Erik said, diplomatically.

'I'd forgotten it was here,' Charles replied, lying, and they started another match, Erik black this time, and Charles white.

**Author's Note:**

> *shakes fist at the movie* And so here I am, writing for yet another ambiguous time-travel-fixit fandom. Come give me [prompts.](http://karanguni.tumblr.com/ask)


End file.
